Hope
by Gaius Imperator
Summary: Thirty years have passed since the bombs fell, and still the nuclear winter remains. But, in the ruins of Baltimore, a lost soul is about to find a way to end this endless winter.
1. Chapter 1

**Note: Reviews will be much appreciated. It is nice to know my story is appreciated, and it is even nicer when someone leaves a longer review with criticism. I can use such criticism to grow as an author, and hopefully make my story better.**

**This story evolved from me wondering about the early days of Fallout. There is very little information on the subject, mainly due to the lack of survivors. Upon seeing this, I just decided that I would create my own lore about what happened. I know that it does violate some pieces of the Fallout Bible, but I going to try to explain my reasoning.**

**This story is set in a city that we know next to nothing about, Baltimore, partially to allow for me to create my own world, and partially because it's my home town.**

**I apologize for the brevity of the story so far, it is still very much a rough draft.**

**Note: I do not own Fallout, or Baltimore.**

**Chapter 1: A Requiem for the Past**

It was spring. The sweet songs of birds drifted in the cool, late morning breeze. The leaves rustled in the wind, the grass swayed gracefully, dancing under a blue, cloudless sky almost hidden from view by the forest canopy.

Emerging from the dense forest, Francis smiled as he felt the sun on his face, and then leaned on a tree to rest for a while. He stared at a passing butterfly, marveling at its beautiful wings.

Before him was a wide meadow, stretching on into the distance. The scent of flowers filled his nose as he inhaled deeply.

Francis held out his hand, and the butterfly landed on it, tickling his fingers.

Relaxed and happy, Francis closed his eyes, soaking in the beauty of the world around him.

The world was happy.

In the distance, a massive fireball erupted. It was fast. In only a few seconds, the fire engulfed the meadow, leaving nothing but a scorched plain, and one lonely shadow, burnt into the ground.

Francis woke up.

Trying desperately to hold on to the warm memory of the sun, Francis closed his eyes again and cried. It had been a long thirty years since he had felt the sun on his face.

He shivered, and wrapped up tighter in his blankets, and tried to fall back asleep. In the distance, the call of an unseen predator drifted in the cold.

Sighing, he grabbed his rifle, and got up to scout out his path for the day.

The wind was unforgiving, and whipped snow in his face as he left the alley, and merged onto Charles Street North. On both sides of the street, rubble filled the spaces between the skeletal buildings. Abandoned cars, half buried in the snow littered the desolate street, made it hard to see beyond a few yards.

He closed his eyes and listened to the wind, and heard nothing but distant calls. Finally, Francis decided that the way was clear, so he pulled out his ancient tourist map, and planned the day's trek. He had to get to the Inner Harbor Mall, nearly twelve miles away.

He would be lucky to make it by nightfall. Sighing, he grabbed his pack, and began his journey. Snow began to blow around him as the wind picked up. Visibility was becoming more and more of a problem as the wind storm became a blizzard.

Francis slipped on a ski mask and flipped up his hood to protect himself from the biting cold.

His morning routine was ruined, however, when he heard the call of a monster from above. He ran into the nearest building, and prepared himself for a fight.

He checked the ammo in his gun, and cursed.

He was down to his last five rounds.

The monster landed just outside. It had huge, tattered, bat-like wings, and deadly looking fangs. It bared its teeth when it saw Francis.

"Just another day in paradise."

Francis screamed, and fired his rifle.

* * *

The bullets ripped through the mutant, killing it instantly. Francis sighed in relief, when he began to hear mutant calls from all across the street.  
His gunfire had woken up a nest!

He slid his gun onto his back, and pulled out his combat knife. He slowly crept backwards into the building he had just run into, blending into the darkness.

Frantically, he tried to escape further into the building, but as he sprinted, he tripped in the inky black and landed on his face. What was worse, his geiger counter started to go off.

He cursed, and turned off his counter, as he tried to hide in the darkness.

Francis heard snarls in the darkness, and he held his breath. The snarls grew closer, and he could feel the warm breath on his legs.

He gripped his knife as hard as he could, and he lunged at the snarls, getting a wet thud and a whimper as he made contact. He twisted the knife and the monster made no sound.

Francis flicked on his head mounted flashlight, and looked at his attacker.

It almost looked human, its face was melted, and its arms and legs wasted away, but there was still some eerie semblance of humanity in those bloodshot eyes.

A shudder ran down his spine after thinking that that could easily be his fate too. Radiation didn't just go away after the blast, it hung on the air. A silent killer, if you were lucky. If you weren't, well, then you turned out like this poor soul, mutated until your mind just gave out.

Francis looked at his surroundings, and smirked.

He was in the Baltimore Vault-Tec HQ by the look of things.

The massive fake vault door just gave it away.

This would be as good of a place as any to hold out against the mutants outside. He had hurt them, and thus they would stay at bay for a while. Enough time to prepare, if he was smart.

First of all, he put on his gas mask. This place was radioactive, and he sure as hell wasn't going to turn into one of those things outside! Then, he walked through the vault door, knowing it to be a good choke-point.

Just inside, he found several frozen corpses still clutching their rifles. They had obviously been dead for over a year, as a thick layer of frost coated them.

It was the first time he had found any sign of survivors in the wastes.

"What? Look, I'm sorry friends, but this is no time for respect."

He swiftly rummaged through their clothing, and found enough ammunition to fill a clip of his assault rifle, a rather fancy looking magnum, but the thing that touched him more than anything else, was a picture of a little girl clutched in one of the men's hands.

He stared at that picture for a long while, and he began to cry. An old memory playing in the street surfaced in his mind. For the first time in years, Francis was human again. It had been a rainy day, but the clouds had broken, so he had run out in the street along with several of his friends. They shot hoops and kicked the can. He couldn't have been more than eight at the time. Everything was coming back to him. He could almost remember his parent's faces.

The scream of a mutant interrupted his thoughts however, and the moment was lost. Francis was back in the present.

He loaded his clip, and prepared for a hopeless battle.

* * *

He knew this was the end. There had to be more than twenty of those ghouls outside, and they knew where he was. He checked his new magnum, and found a single shot. That was all he needed. He was not going to be a feast for hungry abominations.

The first of the mutants turned the corner, and came into view.

"Die, you monster."

Francis was about to shot, when he heard a child's laughter behind him. He whimpered, as he realized his mistake. He should never have gone inside, this building was alive.

The ghoul stared at him for a second, and then ran back around the corner, as if its life was in jeopardy. He had only seen one of those demons act like that once before. The twisted calls of the mutants faded away into the roaring blizzard outside.

Francis looked behind him, but no one was there.

There was something very wrong about this place. When he had entered, he didn't stop to think about the building's atmosphere, but now he felt dread. It seemed to seep into the very depths of his soul.

The building was silent, but somehow ominous. There was not even the sound of rats or radroaches, everything was dead. The very mood of the structure changed, the darkness that had felt so inviting before now was oppressive. His flashlight barely could penetrate the gloom. He began to feel that going outside and being eaten may be the better of his two choices.

A woman's scream echoed through the ruined halls, and multiplied, as if terrible torture was being done in every room. Soon, more voices came, and became a ghostly cacophony.

Shadows cast by nothing began to play in the light of Francis' torch. He was beginning to see what had happened to those men near the door. They had fallen into the same trap as him. This building was alive somehow.

He decided to risk more light, and he lit a flare from his pack. The added light did not reassure him though. He saw that he was surrounded by what looked like blast shadows, only they moved. They seemed to be alive. They moved with purpose, almost like they were people at work.

This was not the first time he had had such an encounter. These, things, were just a new phenomenon in this strange new world. He didn't like to use the term ghost, but, really, that was the best word for them.

Apparently, when the people of the world were atomized, they did not have time to realize what had happened, and did not move on. They were doomed to relive their final hours forever.

"What are you?"

He got no response. The shadows ignored him, continuing on with their strange dance. He felt sorry for them, but he also feared them. He wasn't sure, but that could easily be his fate too. Perhaps the afterlife was destroyed as well, and everyone who died had to remain on the scorched earth as a testament to man's sins. It certainly would not be an undeserved fate for humanity.

He had to get out of here. Francis had never seen what these places did to people, and he didn't want to know.

Francis suddenly got a massive headache that brought to his knees. A blue light drifted down out of the ceiling, combining with the red flare to make the room an eerie purple color.

There was a bright flash, and Francis lost conciousness.


	2. Chapter 2

Note to anon: Yes, I am taking inspiration from Metro 2033 and S.T.A.L.K.E.R. in this story.

Chapter 2: The stranger

Francis coughed up blood as he awoke, his vision fuzzy. He appeared to be in a large indoor space. As his vision cleared, he saw a man sitting on a lawn chair, silhouetted by a roaring fire whose light failed to reach the walls or ceiling of this structure.

He was dressed in heavy winter gear, with his coat hood over his head and had a smoking pipe in his hand. The man turned around when he heard Francis cough.

After puffing several smoke rings, the man spoke in a low, gravely voice.

"Tell me. Are you a fool, or do you simply have a death wish?"

"Where am I? Who are you?"

"Such questions, perhaps I know the answer, though, perhaps not. Answer mine, and I shall answer your's stranger."

"I don't understand your question."

The man sighed, and got up, walking over to Francis.

"Then I shall rephrase myself. Why do you come to Baltimore? Is it that you are a fool, or is it that the apocalypse has broken your soul, and you wish it to end?"

Francis coughed again.

"It has been a long time since I had a purpose."

"I see. A man without a purpose. I am sorry for you, even a man who seeks an end is happier. What dark times we are in that a man must wander without a purpose. To answer your questions, you are in a safe place, and I am a man who was born twice. Once from my mother, and again from the fires that remade the world."

"No, what I meant was; what is your name?"

"Names? What use are they? They are used to address in conversation, but there is no one to talk to. I have no name, and I have no need for one."

"Thank you for saving me. That place nearly scared me stiff!"

Francis laughed. The man didn't.

"Do not laugh at that which you don't understand! I expected more of a man who wanders the wastes. You should pity them, their fate is black. They are forced to relive their deaths for all time. What a curse that must be. Those ghosts are no more evil than those mutants outside, or the fire that you warm yourself with. In order to survive in this world, you must think beyond such limiting ideas like good and evil, and see the truth of the world.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you."

" I am not offended. I am not the one you should apologize to."

The man sat down at the fire, and began to smoke again.

"Tell me, where are you from? You do not seem to be a simple scavenger."

Francis picked himself up, hobbled over next to the fire, and sat down.

"I am from Vault 26."

The man laughed.

"I knew the spirits did not lie. They told me of a vault dweller, who would come from darkness and bring back the sun. You shall save the world my friend. The long night shall soon be over." "You're insane. What else did these "spirits" say to you?"

The man shook his head.

"I find that odd, coming from the mouth of a man who has traveled the wastes. Surely you have seen stranger things than a man who speaks to voices in his head? I know what they said. They said that you would come, and that you will end the endless winter."

"But that's impossible! When I was a boy, I was told that the clouds would go away only after years of radioactive snow and dust storms. Those clouds out there don't seem to be going away anytime soon!"

"Ah, but they must. Soon, the vaults will open, but humanity will not have a chance in this bitter world. You, more than anyone else, should know this. I know why you fear this quest, I feel it. Vault 26 is no more. A great sorrow for us all. But you still live, you can still give humanity hope!"

Francis stared into the fire, watching the flames dance and sparkle.

"How did your vault die, my friend? What sick joke did fate play on you and those you loved?"

"It was... slow. Five years after the door closed behind us, the Overseer died of a stroke. He had no successor. People panicked. Debates turned into fistfights, fights into battles. This went on for a year, until finally, something went wrong. The life support systems failed, lights, air circulation, the water purifier, all dead. The various sides tried to work together, but there was too much bad blood. No one could agree long enough to decide on what to do. That is when I announced I was going out into the wasteland to find spare parts. I was only seventeen at the time. No one was going to let me go, so I broke into the armory, and stole a radiation suit, as much ammo as I could carry, and the warmest clothes I could find. It was hard to leave the vault, but I thought that I would be back."

"I see. You failed to recover the parts. A terrible fate for all. My heart goes out to you, and all those who died."

"No, no I did find the parts. I had discovered an old vault-tec distribution center not far from the vault. Inside I found many parts, many tools that I had never even seen before. I was as if they had simply decided that we wouldn't need any of these things. At the time I thought nothing of it, after all, the war had come suddenly, they may not have had time to distribute all the needed supplies."

Francis began to tear up. Even after fifteen years, the memories still hurt.

"When I returned, I didn't expect a hero's welcome. I had been gone for months, I would have been considered dead. I didn't get a hero's welcome, in fact, when I returned, I received no welcome at all. It turns out, the night I left, I had forgotten to close the door to the armory. One of the factions took the weapons, and began to systematically wipe out their enemies. Once they had won, they turned on each other. By the time I arrived, there were no survivors."

Both Francis and the Man were silent for a great length of time. Only the crackle of the fire, and the roaring blizzard outside pierced the sullen mood.

"I am truly sorry, but you must not live in the past. I know that you will never forget the despair of your return, and you shouldn't. However, now others may suffer unless you find a way to bring back the sun. It was not your fault that your vault died. The vaults were never meant to save anyone."

After taking a deep breath, Francis looked over a the stranger.

"What must I do?"

The Man ruffled through his pack, and pulled out an old, battered tourist map of Baltimore. It was covered in strange markings and strange occult-like symbols.

"There are tales of a great magical box that can create life from nothing. It was the crowning achievement of the old world, its last creation before the fires of atomic war tore it apart. In their arrogance, its creators named this box the Garden of Eden Creation Kit. This name, however, was a fitting description, it create an oasis of life in a bitter world. These kits were promised to the vaults, however, only a few were ever built to standards, and these ones were lost in the chaos of the cataclysm. Still, one remains. I shall show you its location."

The Man held his map so that Francis could see it.

"Where is it?"

"It is in the heart of Baltimore, in the National Aquarium, before the war it had been used to clean the aquarium's water. But beware, something lurks there that I cannot understand. From its lair it controls all of the city. I am sorry, but you must do this on your own, my part in your tale ends here."

"But wait, why?"

"I am dead, and I have been for a long time. When the fires of the apocalypse came, I did not have the luxury of a vault. But I faced the new world bravely, and thus, the wasteland spared me my mind."

The Man removed his hood, and revealed himself. His eyes were glazed over, and his face decayed.

"I am a ghoul, a child of the wasteland. I take this as an atonement for my sins. The world you shall create shall not be mine. I shall be nothing but a nightmare. Humanity shall survive, I have seen it in my dreams. It shall not be easy, but one day, there will be green trees and blue sky again, and, in this new world, man shall be renewed. Mankind will find itself again, and will become greater than it was before. Fear not, you shall be be the first of the new mankind, but you shall not be the last.

Now, get some rest, you have had a hard day. I will keep lookout. Remember what I told you, good and evil are just ideas, you must go beyond them. The spirits tell me that you shall need to remember that before the end, though I know not why or when.

But, you are the first person I have seen in so long. Please, I just want to talk to you.

We shall see each other again before the end. Though I have not seen this, I know it in my heart.

Goodnight, my friend. You will want your sleep in the morning.

Francis laid down on the ground, and closed his eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Once Again Into The Dead City

The clouds floated calmly in the azure sky, almost like cotton balls. There was a slight wind, just enough to make Francis shiver in the October weather.

He saw several children laughing and playing in a playground, and smiled. The day was beautiful, and nothing was wrong.

Francis sat down on a park bench and enjoyed the view of the skyline. A man sat next to him, but when he tried to see what the man looked like, and he was shocked to see a mutated monster. Francis panicked, and pushed the monster to the ground.

You do not understand.

The monster didn t speak, but somehow he still heard it. Still, Francis was filled with Adrenaline and he began to attack the monster.

It didn t respond, it just stared at him as he killed it.

Francis wanted to stop, but he couldn t. He couldn t change what he was doing, he was no longer in control.

You must understand. Why do you attack us?

Francis cried as he finally succeeded in choking the monster, just as a mushroom cloud rose in the distance.

The fireball consumed everything.

Francis woke up, screaming.

He looked around, he was still in the ruined building, but the man was no longer there. The fire was cold and a hole in the roof made a small, weak beam on light on him.

"Hello? Is anyone there?"

It was strange to be alone again. Even though he had only been with the stranger for a few hours, it hurt to know he was again alone in the Dead City.

He got up, and checked out the structure he had been in. It was a theater from the look of things, the fire had been set up on the stage. Though the building was quiet, it was eerie to see so many empty seats surround him. They seemed to be watching, like a spectral crowd watching a play. Francis knew that that may mean that may be what was happening, so he decided to leave before he found out.

He swiftly left through the front entrance, and once again entered into the desolate streets of Baltimore.

The city was silent, deathly silent. The wind was dead, not even the call of a mutant could be heard. Even the low, looming clouds seemed distant and silent.

Francis felt very small in the skeletal remains of the old world.

He looked up at a sign, and saw that he was at the intersection of Charles Street and 33rd Street. He pulled out his map from his pack.

He had just been in the John's Hopkin's Theater, and was just over seven miles away from the Aquarium as the mutant flies.

He might be able to make it in two days if he was lucky.

Francis began to walk down Charles Street, readying himself for the days to come. This was to be his greatest test, he could feel it in the air.

* * *

It had been three hours, and he had not seen or heard a single living thing. It had been hard work, and he had just finished climbing up the side of a massive collapsed building filling the center of Charles Street. It had filled the entire street and both of the streets on either side of the , though, he was on top, and could see that the other side was a long slope of broken concrete and steel beams. It didn t look any easier than what he had already done. Still, Francis needed a rest, and he laid down in the snow, exhausted.

He looked back at his progress, he had gone about two hundred meters, not bad considering the rough terrain he was crossing. Giant rifts in the road, made by collapsing sewer lines, made it hard to ever go in a straight line. Often there were so many abandoned cars in the streets that he had to climb over them, slipping over their frosted roofs.

The apocalypse had not been kind or gentle with the world, it warped the land, and made the world far harsher.

The city was still as silent as ever, though it was not a welcoming quiet. It had become threatening over the past few hours, as if something were cordoning off Charles Street from the rest of the world. Often, Francis felt like thousands of eyes were watching him from every broken window and every ruined facade.

In just a few hours, the environment had gone from welcoming to intimidating. Every tiny sound seemed like a monster about to attack, his every footstep seemed to echo through the ruins and return as faint laughs. He had often turned around, expecting to see something, only to be greeted by the bleak nothingness of the wasteland. Francis felt like he was going insane. He didn't want to go on, he just wanted to stay here, on top of the mountain of rubble, and take an endless rest.

He checked his wristwatch, and saw that it was nearly eleven in the morning. He had, at the most, five more hours of light. Though he wanted to, he couldn't stay much longer. He had to find a safer place to camp for the night, he was far too exposed where he was.

Francis got back up, and picked his assault rifle up to survey the terrain ahead. He slowly walked to the edge of the pile of rubble, and looked through his sights. He scanned the area, and saw nothing dangerous, but something caught his eye. For a second, he thought he saw a black shadow standing in the snow, but when he looked again, it wasn't there.

He leaned forward to get a better view, when the rubble beneath him gave way, and he rolled down the side of the pile. He bounced and turned over and over again in the rubble, hitting rocks and pieces of concrete. His backpack snagged on a rock, and was ripped off, but not before dislocating his collar bone.

He tried to get a foothold with his right leg, but it smashed into a slab of concrete and fractured in several places. He didn't have time to cry out in pain though, as his chest smashed into a steel girder.

He could hear his ribs crack with a terrible crunch.

The pain was intense as he pushed himself away from the girder and laid down on the debris next to it. He had messed up, and he knew it was all over. He tried to take a deep breath, but he was nearly knocked out by a severe pain in his side.

He looked down at his leg. It was bent at the kneecap. He wasn't going to be able to walk on it.

The wasteland remained indifferently silent as Francis started to become delirious, weakly singing old songs he had learned in the vault and staring up at the dark clouds.

"It don't want to set the world on fire."

Francis coughed up blood that splattered all over his face.

"I just want to start, a great big flame in your heart."

Francis giggled as the world began to sway, he was going into shock.

"Hey, what you doing? I want in!"

As he lost consciousness, Francis giggled some more, thinking he could hear the playful laughter of children and the sound of cars whizzing by.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: The Darkness

When Francis finally opened his eyes, he saw only darkness. There was no sound. The air was dead and silent.

He tried to get up, but he could not feel his body.

Still, he felt like he was not alone.

A distant voice echoed through the void.

"There is still hope. Not all is lost. You are not alone."

"Who's there?"

"Do not be afraid. We want to help. We seek an end to the darkness, as do you. We know you, for you have been fortold. The one who faced the darkness, and the one who shall be the first to see the light of day.

"Come to the Aquarium, and you shall become legend."

"Who are you?"

"All shall be revealed at the center of the Dead City, the Inner Harbor, the place where fate is made."

The darkness became even stronger as the voice disappeared into the void.

"Hello? Hello?"

His words seemed to not even pierce the gloom. It mockingly absorbed them, as if he had not spoken at all.

He was alone in the silence.

Time was meaningless, there was nothing, Francis was alone.

He knew he was dead, no one could have survived the fall he took. He was just glad to know that it was over, and that it ended quickly. Still, it scared him to be so alone.

It wasn't just silent, like a dark night in the frozen countyside, there was not a sound, not a glimmer of light.

It seemed it would last forever. Scared and alone, Francis began to hum half-remembered melodies of his youth.

He closed his eyes, and thought of Stardust and Nat King Cole. Thinking of its beautiful lyrics and sweeping themes made him feel safer. He saw in his eye lids a starry sky and a peaceful garden. A nightingale sang its songs and the grass swayed in the sweet breeze. The last purple fingers of the sunset skipped into the distance as the night became complete. And then, he saw the great Milky Way arching across the sky, with tiny, glimmering pin pricks twinkling in the interstellar clouds.

It was peace, and Francis laid down in the grass and smiled.

But, then he heard a sound. It sounded like a whisper in his ear, though he could not understand it.

Suddenly, the world blasted into a bright light forcing him to close his eyes, and when he opened them again, he saw a ceiling barely lit by a dying fire. It arched over him and was made of a rough stone.

The flickering reflection of the fire danced on its moist surface. He heard conversations, the moans of those in pain, the steady hum of life, and far away, the static of a radio. For the first time in thirty years, he was with people. He was no longer alone.

He moved his head to the right to look at the fire, but he was stiff and it burned to even move an inch, so he just cried out in pain.

In the corner of his eye, Francis saw something move towards him. His reflexes kicked in, and he tried to recoil, but he couldn't move. The face of a young woman filled his vision, and Francis smiled.

She stared at him in awe as he stared at her, after a long silence, she shouted at the top of her lungs, "someone go get Doc, the stranger's awake!"

She turned back to him and smiled, "don't worry, you're safe. Welcome to Market Station, welcome home."

Francis saw more and more people begin to crowd around him. They all stared at him in shock and awe. Some cried and others faintly smiled, others embraced and timidly laughed.

And deep in Francis' heart, a fire long dead was rekindled.

The crowd was not loud, or jubillant, and neither was Francis. No one celebrated, or jumped for joy. Even though the joy filled the entire station, the mood remained somber.

Francis still couldn't believe what was happening, he was no longer alone. It was strange to look at human faces again, unaltered by chemical and nuclear warfare. They were everything he could ever have imagined. He started to think about his old home in Vault 26 again. Suddenly, he was back there again, in the carnage after his return from his adventure on the surface.

He tried to force away the memories of their contorted faces, the dried blood lining the walls, and most of all, the terrible stench of death. Bile rose up in the back of his throat, but he kept it down.

Francis' deep introspection was cut short by the loud snap of a cane hitting the ground. It echoed throughout the station, and everyone went silent. The crowd parted, making way for an old man with sallow, haunted looking eyes. He slowly hobbled over the hard stone floor towards Francis.

"Alright, let me through, I want to see this "stranger"."

The old man sat down in a chair next to Francis' cot, and stared at him for a long time. The old man's eyes seemed to pierce into his very soul.

There was a long silence, no one made a single sound.

Francis looked deeply into the man's eyes as the man looked into Francis', and for a second, Francis felt as though they were one.

"Tell me, boy. What's your name?"

Though his lungs burned in pain, Francis took in a deep breath.

"What use is a name when there is no one to say it?"

The old man smiled, and even weakly laughed. Francis started to laugh too, but stopped when he felt a massive pain in his side.

"You are a wise man stranger, and a lucky man too. If it hadn't been for our scavengers, you would be a snowman by now. My name is Doc, and this is my station. We are honored to have you as a guest in our humble home. We have so many questions, who are you, where are you from, what brought you here? "

Francis smirked.

"I am Francis, I am from Vault 26, but that was a long time ago."

Francis suddenly thought of the strange dreams he had been having recently, but he didn't want to say anything to this man. He didn't want to be considered crazy.

"I came here to search for survivors. The Wasteland is very bleak, and very lonely, and I needed to know that there were other survivors of the apocalypse."

"Are there others? Are there other people out there? We have been trying to contact other survivors for decades, but there has only been static!"

Francis sadly stared at the ceiling. He remembered the frozen men hiding behind the door, and the picture of a little girl clutched in the hands of the dead man. He thought of the ghosts lurking the abandoned building, and then, the face of the ghoul he had killed. How its face was twisted and horrible. It echoed in his mind, and brought a cold shiver down his spine.

"No, there is no one out there. Before you found me, I had no idea if humanity had survived at all. There is nothing but ghosts and monsters out there, its dead."

The old man's chin began to quiver, and tears welled up in his eyes.

"But what about you? You said you were from a Vautl!"

"It's dead. They killed each other, I am all that's left of them."

"Then we are alone. The last bastion of humanity in the apocalypse. There is no one who can save us, he have no hope."

The old man began to cry, as the collective will of the crowd collapsed.

Francis forced himself up, despite the pain. He sat on the bed and set his feet on the stone ground.

"No, there is still hope. There is a device in the National Aquarium that can rebuild the world, bring it back to the way it was!"

The old man hopefully smiled, while still remaining his forlorn expression.

"You don't want to go there. That place is evil, our bravest scavenges don't dare approach that accursed building. They say it stands intact, alone in the middle of a massive field of rubble, as if the bombs themselves were afraid to touch it. It is basked in an eerie glow. Just looking at it leaves its imprint in your mind. Whenever you dream, you see the sickly green cloud around it, and the pristine building itself.

"The last man foolish enough to try to enter got within two hundred feet, and then he just fell to the ground. Then he got back up and started to walk towards us, but it wasn't him anymore. His mind was gone, all he had was a vacant stare with drool dripping out of his mouth. It boiled his brain! You do not want to go there."

"What choice do we have? How long do you think you can last in this hole? Twenty, thirty years max? Well those clouds out there will last much longer than that. And the radiation will take centuries to go away."

The old man suspiciously eyed Francis.

"Where did you learn about this device that can change the world? Why do you believe in it so?"

"A ghost told me. We crossed paths in the depths of the Vault Tec building, and he gave me a purpose. He was some sort of Shaman or priest."

"Do not trust that man. You should forget about that machine before it destroys your mind. We have had dealings with a stranger like that before. Always cloaked in a heavy coat and ski mask, unarmed, but powerful. He is just another of the Dead City's strange anomalies. That, creature, has no love for humanity, it is a monster that preys on our minds. I am surprised that you trust it, you are quite possibly the most experienced man in the whole world at survival. It only shows how powerful that monster is."

"But he saved me from a haunted building. He cannot be too evil,"

"It is on words like that that that monster lives. Do not go to the Inner Harbor. You will not survive." 


End file.
